


there's a dazzling haze a mysterious way about you, dear

by Anonymous



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BUT HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE, F/M, POV Jaime Lannister, Porn With Plot, and sex too i guess, and then drama ensures, and... idk fluff too, angsty at parts I guess...., bc I cant write anything w/o fluff, jaime and brienne meet at a party. after 3 years., lots of pining but yall knew that by now, no cersei/jaime we're having NONE of that in this chilli's tonight folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 22:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You’re not in love with her,Jaime tells himself. An irritated sigh whistles past his teeth.You’re not in love with her,he reminds himself again as he sneaks another glance at Brienne from the corner of his eye. His heart thuds loudly in his chest, disagreeing vehemently.





	there's a dazzling haze a mysterious way about you, dear

**Author's Note:**

> I am supposed to be studying Ulysses right now for an assignment on Monday so I procrastinated and wrote this instead [also, this hasn't been beta'd or anything so all mistakes are my own!]

_ You’re not in love with her _, Jaime tells himself as an irritated sigh whistles past his gritted teeth.

Jaime is the pretence of indifference as he leans against the bar counter and takes a sip of his drink. _ You’re not in love with her_, he reminds himself again as he sneaks another glance at Brienne from the corner of his eye. His heart lurches in his chest, warmth and agony spreading down to his stomach as he catches her turning towards the shorter man on her arm as that unworthy fool whispers something in her ear. 

Jaime straightens then, his brows furrowed in an uncomfortable anger. He lets his chin jut proudly into the air with all his Lannister arrogance, before kicking the contents of his glass down his throat in one swift movement. A bitterness that has nothing to do with the alcohol bubbles in his chest at the sight of her, so far away from him. All this distance between them. _ She acts like she can’t even see me_, Jaime thinks harshly. _ Has she even noticed him? _

But _ he _ has noticed her. She is wearing a long navy blue dress, the halter neck design pulling his gaze to her surprisingly delicate collarbones. Jaime welcomes the memory of his lips _ there, _ and it sends a jolt of _ need _ flaming up his spine. A helpless grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

_ “Jaime...” she moaned, the sound of his name on her lips so enticing that he could already feel the tightening in his pants. He wanted to hear it again, like nothing in the world could make him feel as good as when she says his name, broken by the moans climbing up her throat. It's its own kind of intoxication and Jaime can't seem to have enough. _

_ “So you _ do _ want me, wench.” He teases with a roll of his hips and she writhes, pulling him into a tighter embrace, her arms encircling him and he feels warmth pools in the pit of his stomach. Like he's being _ held _ by her. She is holding him and he feels…. something. Something that prickles the corner of his eyes and steals his breath away. _

_ “Shut up” she mumbles and Jaime falls further in, his teeth grazing the soft skin where her collarbones meet. Another breathy sigh hitches in her throat and oh, how he wants to kiss it to freedom. He wants to give her this, give her… something equal to, if not _ more _ than what he's feeling. Something to remember him by. His lips trail up the long column of her throat and suck at the spot behind her ear. She is delicious in every way, how had he ever thought of her as anything but _ magnificent _ ? A pinch of guilt, insecurity gnaws at the back of his head. She has every right to reject him if she wants to, to stop this before it becomes something she might regret. A better man would worry about that. Jaime may not be a better man, but he still needs to know. _

_ “Don’t you?” he purrs, hoping it'll hide the quiver in his voice as he bites gently on the tender skin at the hollow of her throat and she nods, feeble but sure. _

_ “Jaime...” she whimpers and Jaime’s _ insatiable _ now, the more he gets the more he wants. _

_ “I like it when you say my name,” he whispers into her ear, latching onto her earlobe with a quick flick of his tongue. She shivers in response and oh, how it makes him preen. She has always had an undeniable effect on him, and ever since the news of her departure (which had left him scrambling and _ hurt _ , for some reason) it build and build in him, hot and urgent, until he could take it no more. _

_ He wants to take her _ here and now _ on his desk in his office, professionalism and etiquette be damned. And if she wants him too (which she does, she _ must _ she's clinging against him enough to prove it) what is stopping them? _

_ “Say it again,” he presses against her, letting her feel his want, hard and desperate against her inner thigh. He holds his breath, watching her react to realizing that she is the cause of his arousal, that she has done this to him, "Say you want me." _

_ Something liquid plays at the back of her big blue eyes, gold flecks from the waning sunlight catch on her brow and Jaime could swear he has never seen anything so beautiful. Her fingers curl into his hair and pull ever so slightly, a rough growl building in his throat. Her eyes, her _ unbelievable _ eyes are blown with lust and her mouth is slightly agape and Jaime realizes with a shot of heady mirth that she wants this, wants _ him _ just as much as he wants her. _

_ "I do." she admits in a voice that's so tangible it feels like a caress. She leans in then and grazes the corner of his lips with the tip of her nose and oh, oh the _ pull _ is indescribable. He _ has _ to have her. Even the Seven couldn’t stop him now. _

_ His wandering hand climbing up her ribs, cursing the fabric separating their bodies as he inches closer to the soft swell of her breast. He flicks a thumb over a nipple that has peaked through her shirt and Brienne arches into him, hissing at the contact, a sound that goes straight to his cock. She throws her head back, and Jaime feels a sudden gush of her strength as she winds a leg around the back of his thigh and pulls him flush against her, right where she needs him the most. The heat between between her legs, her strong thighs encasing him in her embrace _ _ —it _ _ feels like a mad abandon, like she is the one commanding the seduction, not him. And it makes Jaime feel desired in a way he has never felt before. _

_ His other hand trailed up her thigh, inside, closer and closer to her heat. His eyes don’t leave hers, asking her a silent question all along how far is too far? Brienne doesn’t stop him, instead she bites back a moan as he gets there and cups her, her scent of her fills the air, overpowering his senses like his world begins and ends with _ her _ , and her alone. He couldn’t be bothered about anything else in the world as long as she was here with him. The warm wetness soaks into his hand _ _ — _ _ she is real, fuck, she is real and _ not _ a dream he’s been having too often lately but real and _ his _ to take…. it makes his mouth water in response. _

_ Brienne clasps a hand over her mouth to stifle a groan of pleasure as he grinds the heel of his palm against her damp underwear. Jaime wretches that hand away and replaced it with his own lips, kissing her as fiercely as he dares. _

_ "Don't." he tells her, as softly as he could with his head now spinning with the taste of her. His desperation heightens as she bites his bottom lip and oh, how it makes him grin like a teenage boy being kissed for the first time. Her lips are softer than he'd imagined and her touch gentler still as one hand drifts down to the nape of his neck, clasping hungrily at his shoulder, pulling him closer just the way he likes while the other remains in his hair, tangling his thoughts up with every graze of her fingers against his scalp. _

_ His tongue dances with hers, eagerly exploring the inside of her mouth. The honey she's had in her tea lingers on her lips and sweetens her taste, almost driving him to the brink of madness. _ How had he not kissed her before? How had he held himself back before this because he will _ not _ be able to control himself around her, ever again. _ His fingers push past the fabric of her underwear and he can trace the shiver that runs down her spine, against his hand at the small of her back as he swallows her gasps and sighs alike. “Jaime,” she says again and it only makes him soar with desire. _

_ He wants to savour this, her touch, her taste, her voice, everything. She fills up his senses and he still wants more, more. She can’t clasp her hand over her mouth again, it would be agony to let her. "Please" he almost begs as his fingers begin to trace her warm, wet folds, "I want to hear you." _

Jaime loosens his bowtie which has started to get a little too hot around his neck. He can still see Brienne, drifting further away from him in the crowd, her back turned to him. He unbuttons his top two collar buttons and orders a refill of whiskey neat. 

He is still gaping at the back of her head, his eyes boring into her thick skull that still decided to leave him, even _ after _ . _ Stupid stubborn wench _ , he thinks angrily, _ I am not in love with you. I don’t care if you left. I don’t care. _ He can’t tear his eyes away from her though, a traitorous hope blooming in his chest that _ maybe _ she will turn around and look back, will meet his eyes. Will see him there.

Maybe she will come up to him, talk to him and he’ll say something inappropriate and she’ll scowl at him the way he likes. And then the wench will blush a deep red and stutter an apology about how she shouldn’t have left, shouldn’t have taken that job offer out far at Winterfell. That she should’ve stayed right there at Casterly Rock. _ With him _ . And he’ll tell her _ you can still come back _. And she will be taken aback but she will agree because he will pester her into agreeing. And then he’ll take her home. To his bed. And this time he will take it nice and slow and proper —not like last time, on the cold uncomfortable desk, but on his soft, warm bed.

But last time was good, oh it was _ better _ than good it was brilliant. The memory of it haunts him just as much as it brings him to a much-needed release on some nights when it feels too cold and he _ almost _ dials her number. But then he thinks better of it, _ what if she’s with someone else? _ And that thought makes him angry, it makes him want her more (she should be in _ his _ bed godsdammit) but she’s not here. She’s far away. At Winterfell. Where she _ chose _ to go. Even after he—

Jaime pushes that thought back instantly, before her rejection can grip his heart in a cold icy grip. _ I’m not in love with her _, he reminds himself his breath now uneasy at the memory, it doesn’t matter anyway. Jaime looks away then, forcing himself to focus on his drink instead. None of his stupid fantasies will come true. He will drink his drink, then he will leave this foolish party and go back home to his empty apartment and an even emptier life. He will take a shower, think of her while he’s there and then later crawl into his too cold, too big bed and will himself to sleep.

Angrily, he picks up the drink and gulps it down. What had he been thinking when he decided to come to this party? He knew she was on the invitee list, it had been the sole reason to drag himself out here. But what did he expect? That she’ll see him and throw her arms around him? Tell him she loves him? Oh but _ he _ does not love her! So what does it matter anyway!

When he looks up from the table, rising to leave, his eyes met hers and even through the crowd, through this unfathomable distance between them, the blue in her gaze is like a paralytic. His resolve crumbles and turns to ash.

She is looking at him, not _ through _ him like he feared she would, but at him. Her crystal clear gaze is on him and Jaime feels a tug in his chest like he is being reeled in towards her. He is suddenly lost, lost in the sea of memories her gaze brings.

_ She had looked at him in the eye then, when he was inside her. As he moved, fast and impulsive and chasing, chasing their release as he breathed her name and she uttered his. She’d gripped back at him, clenching around him and making him sputter and put everything he has into delaying himself, holding it in so he could finish with her and not a second before. She had felt so good, so good with her legs locked around his waist and he had told her so. _

_ And her eyes, gods _ her eyes _ . Like unfathomable pools of sapphire blue he could drown in and never come up for air. Glazed with lust and something he could not name, wanting him and trusting him. He had kissed her then, letting pouring everything he’s ever felt for her into that kiss, every bit of himself that he was willing to give if she was willing to take. And she took him, she accepted him as she kissed him back with equal fervor, equal need. It pulled them both under, into the undefined territory where it meant _ more _ , something deeper than either of them had planned on divulging, something that made time irrelevant as long as their arms were around each other, a kiss that seemed endless, like a promise and she agreed too, pushing back in response, rolling her hips against him with a whimper as he thrust into her one last time before she came, “Jaime” she breathed and it felt like a pledge on her lips as she held him fast and he came too then, staring into her everblue gaze and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. When they both came up for air, the moment felt heavy with everything unsaid between them but also cozy, like it was their own little bubble and in this bubble he was happy and _ home _ and she wasn’t leaving the next morning. _

_ “Brienne” he says, grazing his lips along the marks he’d left on her throat. Her fingers played with his hair, gentle and warm as he let her hold him, resting his head on her shoulder, refusing to pull away as silence settled around them as neither of them moved an inch. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable the desk was, or that they were both fully clothed. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, did it mean as much to her as it did to him? Could there be more they aren’t talking about? More that they had silently pledged to each other in that moment of abandon, that he didn’t want to ever take back? _

_ “Jaime…” she trailed off, looking his eyes and it felt like coming home, like being at peace, like he could do this forever with her and never with anybody else. _ Yes, _ he wanted to say, _ I am yours. _ His eyes trailed the length of her neck with kisses blooming purple when he had marked her as his. _And you are mine.

_ And then, then he’d foolishly given voice to their silent promises and ruined _everything_. _

Her eyes widen when she is caught staring at him and she looks away almost immediately but that split-second of delay was all it took for him to know what he needs to know. Her cheeks are stained red now and he knows, he knows she sees him, recognizes him. Remembers him. 

That’s why when she breaks away from the room and goes to one of the balconies for air, he follows her. _ For closure, _ he tells himself, _ it’s not because I’m in love with her. Which I’m not. _

She chose an empty balcony and he is grateful for the privacy it offers. She jumps in surprise when he goes to stand next to her, an arm’s distance between them lest he act on any impulse and make the same mistake again. He stares out over the expanse of the city of King’s Landing, heart hammering outrageously in his chest while neither of them say anything for what feels too long.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t....I didn’t know you—you’d be here.” she stammers, breaking the silence and only then does Jaime sneak a glance at her. The distant lights of the city and the light spilling over from the hall of the Red Keep bathes her in a soft glow in the darkness. She looks at him, her eyes dark in the absence of light, catching stray gold here and there, and yet he could swear it looks like the night-sky, splattered with stars.

“Would you still come if you knew?” he asks, even though he fears he already knows. The way things had ended leaves no doubt in his mind. She wouldn’t have come if she knew he was here. She would avoid him just like she’d avoided his calls for the first few weeks, and hadn’t called back for the next three years.

“Yes.” She answers in a voice so low, he would’ve thought he’d misheard if he wasn’t watching her mouth.

“Yes?” His face slacks in dazed confusion.

“Yes.” Brienne says again, looking away, “I missed you.”

Jaime’s palm twitches, wanting desperately to touch her arm, to be sure absolutely sure that it is her for real, not a dream he’s about to wake up to any second now. If this is a dream he doesn't want to wake up.

“I missed you too” He says, hating how his voice cracked in the middle, giving him away. He tries to cover it up as fast as he can, “So, what brings you to the capital?”

“The Starks are expanding south.” He knows she hates small-talk but it’s funny how she’s willing to do just that because if they don’t make small talk they’ll have to talk about what they are to each other and Brienne will do anything but talk about _ that _, “Catelyn sent me with Sansa. She's Creative Director and I'm to oversee the finances.”

“Come work for me instead.” he says out of nowhere, and her head snaps towards him. Her eyes are large and confused and the tinge of fear in them makes his stomach turn. The last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of him, and even then he doesn’t want it at all.

“...No.” she says slowly and even though he’d half meant it to just provoke a reaction out of her (he knows she isn’t coming back. Why hope at all?) it still stings.

“Jaime, you know I can’t…” She starts to say, realizing too soon that her rejection had hurt him. He had half-meant it as well. He _ wants _ her back. In his office, in his life… however way she’d let him, he wants her back.

He nods wordlessly, his usual wry humour escaping him. She could turn away and leave any second and this would be the last he sees of her for a long time. He should make amends, wish her well in life, like a good man. She was here with someone anyway. He suddenly remembers the dark-haired young man on her arm and blanches.

“Your date looked well.” he cannot hide the acidity in his voice, try as he might, “although he looks a bit short for your taste, wench. Is that the way you prefer them? I should’ve dyed my hair brown back when we fucked in my office. You might’ve said yes to me then.”

“Jaime, why are you here?” Her voice is dipped in steep irritation. She is glaring at him now but she looks so unbelievably sad that Jaime wants to take it all back, to stop being the cause of her sadness, to stop it altogether.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, genuinely apologetic, “I… about_ before _ and.. And now again. Brienne, I—”

“It’s alright” she stops him, gesturing with her palm, “you don’t have to apologize, Jaime it’s—” but Jaime touches her arm, lightly.

“Please,” he tries, “it’s been three years now, Brienne. You stopped answering my calls, I couldn’t explain then. You’re here now and—”

“You asked me to _ marry you _ , Jaime!” she throws her hands up in exasperation, “in the middle of our weird office… _ sex! _ ” he can see her cheeks tinted pink even in this faint light, “you asked me to marry you because you got caught up in the moment and you’re sorry you said it. I know! We both know you’re sorry, Jaime. So just _ stop. _ ” Her voice breaks then, barely above a whisper when she continues after a shaky breath, “Stop apologizing for it. I _ know _ you didn’t mean it. _ You weren’t thinking. It won’t happen again! _” Her eyes are glinting with unshed tears when she finally looks at him and then looks away too quickly, “It’s fine. I understand and it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

Silence settles heavy on them before Jaime finds his voice again.

“But I meant it” he sounds rough to his ears and she doesn’t look like she’s heard him, so he grips her arm gently, coaxing her gaze back to his, “Brienne, I meant every word of it.”

“What?” She looks like she doesn’t believe him and he wants to shake her by the shoulders, tell her all the truths he’d hidden away inside him for so long. But the wench is adamant and she says, “No you didn’t.”

“I _ did _.” he insists, “the way I saw it, we fucked because I wanted you, had wanted you for a long time and you wanted me too, you can’t deny it. I felt it,” he pulls the hand he was holding and places it right above his racing heartbeat, “in here.”

“And then I asked you to marry me because I couldn’t bear to watch you leave, couldn’t bear to let you go and you…” he doesn’t let her hand drop, instead holds it tighter still, so she may somehow feel the truth of it in his heartbeat, and_ know _, “you shoved me away and never answered my calls, never called me back, and I never saw you again" he scans her face desperately for a reaction, "...until today.”

“But you didn’t mean it!” Brienne continues, “you can’t have meant it, Jaime. You ...” She takes a deep breath before shaking her head, “men like you don’t say things like that we women like me.”

“Men like _ me _?” Jaime wants to laugh, “There are no men like me, Brienne. Only me.”

“And isn’t that mighty arrogant of you” she scoffs and he has to smile at the familiarity of it. He has missed her.

“You weren’t around to keep me in check, _ wench_, so I’ve let it get to my head” there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips at that and oh, how he's missed her, it feels like a physical ache in his chest.

“My name is—” She starts to correct him but they’ve done this way too many times so he finishes the sentence for her.

“—_ Brienne _, I know.” he takes a small step closer to her, watching for any signs of her flinching, of pulling away from him. When there is none, he tilts his head to meet her gaze.

“Do you regret it?” he asks, his voice small and unsure, “what happened back in my office?”

She stares back at him, searching his eyes for _ something _ before she gives her head a small shake and replies, “No.”

There’s that familiar flush on her cheeks, he can tell and he pulls her closer until they’re chest to chest. “Good,” he agrees, “neither do I.”

He draws himself closer to her, can feel her hand clutch his and he lets her palm on his chest know the truth of his feelings. She bites down on her lower lip nervously and Jaime leans in closer, nudging her chin with the tip of his nose, “Care for round 2?”

“Jaime...” she pulls her face back and Jaime freezes instantly, the familiar sting of rejection at the back of his neck, like waiting for the hammer to fall. She looks him surely in the eye and grips his shoulder with her free hand, which he notes, is trembling slightly.

“I’m going to do something very stupid” she warns, fear still lingering in her eyes and Jaime has no chance to even ask _ what? _, before she kisses him.

It’s _ everything _ he’s dreamed of yet _ nothing _ his dreams could even come close to. Her lips are softer than he remembers, and she in tentative in her kisses, but she kisses him still. It’s gentle and tender and a tiny bit unsure for the few seconds it takes for him to catch up. She pulled away then, his own fear of rejection mirrored in her beautiful eyes and Jaime feels like an absolute fool, for having taken _ so unawares _ that he forgot! to kiss her back!

He lunges towards her then, kissing her with all the ardour he’d held inside for all these years, and feels her hand hold the back of his neck and pull him closer still. The satin dress is better than her shirt, the thinner fabric giving him more access to her skin, it lets him explore her back more freely. She whimpers and moans at his touch and no sound could be sweeter to his ears. It’s altogether familiar, yet still so very new and exciting that Jaime wants. He _ wants _ so, so much.

“Let me take you home,” he tells her, his breathing heavy as they back into alcove, “and strip this pretty dress off you” he kisses her exposes shoulder, “and do it properly this time. No hard desks, only my very hard coc—”

“Jaime!” she is flushed again and oh how he_ loves _ this colour on her, the warmth radiating off her, her pulse loud and urgent under his hands.

“I love it when you say my name, sweetling,” he flashes his charming grin as he says the words she must remember, and she flushes harder, gently hitting him against the arm.

“So you do remember!” he teases, sucking on the skin under her earlobe the way he remembers she likes and she hums in response, clearly enjoying it.

“I’m sorry, Jaime.” she says out of nowhere, her breath warm where it ghosts on his cheek.

“What?” Jaime pulls back to look at her

"For leaving the way I did, and...,” she's avoids his gaze, staring down at her shoes instead, “I ...I just…”

She explains it to him then, how a couple of guys who slept with her in college, drunk or otherwise, would later call her back (or ignore her altogether) and tell her _ it was a mistake, it won’t happen again_, to not tell anyone at all lest people get to know they fucked Ugly Brienne. 

“I thought you were calling to say the same and...” she is flushed from head to toe now, and Jaime would smile at how endearing it is if what they were talking about wasn’t so deeply disturbing.

“And I couldn’t stand it,” a tear escapes her eyelids then and runs down her cheek, “I couldn’t have _ you _ say it to me, no matter how right it was. Now when I...” she trails off.

“Not when you what?” He presses. Jaime wants to assure her that he isn’t like those men from her college, men he would punch to pulp if he ever came across, for making her feel this way. But he needs to hear the rest of it, equal parts anticipation and fear clouding his mind that it might he exactly what he’s _ needed _ to hear, _ wanted _to hear all along.

She doesn’t reply and Jaime squeezes her hand gently. He kisses her eyelids then, and whispers softly, “Not when you what, Brienne?”

“I _ like _ you, Jaime.” she admits and doesn’t need to look into her eyes to know the truth of it, but she does look at him, eyes tear-stained and true. “I might even lo… love you.” she says, her shoulders slouching with the weight of her words, “I don’t know when it happened but I hate your guts and I still love you and you make me so angry with your arrogance and lewdity and _ I love you _ and I realized only later that I don’t love you _ in spite of _ all these annoying things that you are but also _ because _ of it.”

Jaime kisses her again then, his heart breaking against his chest like waves crashing against a shore in a merciless storm. She loves him she loves him, he is giddy with all the love he can’t hold in, “I love you too, you stubborn woman.” He replies, kissing every inch of her that he can, “You honourable, blue-eyed wench, I am yours.” he promises, taking her lips in his and kissing her deep and sloppy before saying every so softly against her mouth, “and you are mine.”

“From this day…?” Brienne starts to say and he joins her, her voice getting stronger and surer as she kisses him back, holding his face in her large, warm hands, “till the end of my days.”

They seal their vows with a kiss, marrying with the same impulse that had Jaime sprout the proposal three years ago. It makes Jaime smile so much that his cheeks start to hurt. He hasn’t smiled like he meant it in such a long time. Brienne seems to mirror his joy, and Jaime feels giddy.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks and he nods readily.

“Where will we go?” he asks, relishing in how mushy it makes his insides feel to think of them as _ together _. As ‘we’.

_ You’re not in love with her _, he remembers telling himself earlier this evening and he almost laughs because _he is_. He_ is_ in love her, has been for so long that it feels like a lifetime. _You _are_ in love with her _, he tells himself as he watches Brienne inform her date, Pod (her assistant, she tells him with a laugh, and Sansa’s fiancé too) that she is leaving. The lad smiles warmly at her and Jaime feels silly about the jealousy that sprouted in him. 

_ You _are_ in love with her _ , he reminds himself, gaping openly at the woman who looks majestic and proud in this room full of snobs and she commands them with the air of a lord commander addressing her soldiers in battle. _Helplessly, maddeningly in love with her._ She is powerful, magnificent and soft and gentle, a woman who holds his heart in her hands and cares for him with a tenderness that is so foreign to him, but ever so welcome. _And by some miracle, she loves you too. _

_ And it _is_ a miracle really, _ he thinks as he presses the buttons on the elevator, _that we found our way back to each other. _A second chance.

He kisses her softly as the doors close, “I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow night. And then we can date for as long as you’d like. We’d been dating back in the Westerlands too, when you think about it. Spending every night at each other’s apartment, doing things all couples do. Except the sex.”

He winks at her and she rolls her eyes, blushing still, “but this time we’re going to have lots and lots of sex. I promise.” He says, “I have had so many dreams about you, I still think about that time in the office. All the time.”

“So do I” Brienne admits in a small voice, refusing to meet his gaze and it’s so endearing, his shy wench with her tender heart. 

“We’re going to take it as slow or as fast as you want,” he tells her, a glint in his eyes as he lets the innuendo settle in, making her scowl, but there is that undeniable tug of a smile at the corner of her lips, “we can keep dating forever or we can move in tomorrow. I’m okay with anything as long as I’m with you.”

When she nods and takes his hand in hers, says "we'll figure it out as we go" and kisses his knuckles, Jaime couldn't even grinning even if he wanted to.

They talk all night when they get to Brienne’s apartment, talking and caressing and reminiscing about the times they had been together and all the things they had missed in each other's lives this last three years until the sun comes up over the skyline of King’s Landing. He wants to cuddle her to sleep but it’s a Sunday and he _ wants _ to take this slow, do this right. Besides, he needs a fresh change of clothes so he drives home begrudgingly, promising to pick her up at five o'clock and before he comes over that evening, he puts a change of clothes in his trunk and grabs a box of condoms from the pharmacy down the street.

And when she opens the door, looking absolutely elegant, tall and striking in a forest green dress-shirt, her freckles distinct against her skin and her blue eyes shining bright, Jaime kisses her again (he can’t get enough of it, he has three years to make up for) it doesn’t feel like all that time and distance had ever separated them at all. They bicker all through dinner, talking about movies and sports and Jaime's constant dirty insinuations and she laughs, she blushes and she puts up with no kind of nonsense and oh, its perfect she's perfect.

It feels natural, like coming home, like _ breathing_. Like picking up right where they left off, all those years ago. Like falling into an easy stride beside each other. Like he's known her all his life, probably even before (which is ridiculous, he _knows_, but it's so easy to love her it could make him believe in destiny, or fate even) and she trusts him, loves him and makes him feel like he's more than a Lannister, more than his name or his riches or his father's disappointing heir, like he is more than the sum of his parts. Like he is just himself, Jaime. And he gives her all of himself too, willingly and lovingly for hers to have and to hold for she loves him fiercely, Brienne does. He loves when she takes control, sitting atop him, her hands wandering all over his body and wringing her pleasure from him and oh, it's _divine_, watching her throw her head back, letting the heated sounds that pour out of her mouth drown him in their sweetness, feeling her _move_, letting her take him like he is_ hers_, hers to take and hers alone as she brings them both to the finish, sweaty and panting, collapsing in his arms as he comes with her, exhausted and sated. Her love is as bold as her stride, as strong as her legs that wrap around his waist and make him keel to her, to the tender heart she hides under her armour. Jaime does everything he can to make her forget the cruel japes lesser men have thrown at her, he loves her with a mission to remind her how much she means to him, every part of her, body and soul and he doesn't yield until she's screaming his name in ecstasy, trembling under him in pleasure, her jaw slack and her eyes hooded and glazed as she comes down from her high. It is more than he had ever hoped for.

And it baffles Jaime _everyday_ that he wakes up next to her, warm and safe in her arms and he smiles into the hollow of her neck, wrapping his arms tighter, pulling her closer. And as the morning light starts to break over the Visenya's Hill, his mind cruising between sleep and wakefulness, Jaime realizes that happiness can sometimes be just that simple.

**Author's Note:**

> I cant write smut lord knows i cried and poured myself a glass of gatorade & vodka to cope


End file.
